Song Of The Reaper
by Samstruck
Summary: Pre-series AU. A new town, a new school and a new predator who lurked in the dark of the night like a shadow waiting to be touched by blood. A threat like never before, a road never taken , will the Winchesters make it out alive, or will they become faces forgotten and a song left unsung? Warnings inside.
1. Chapter 1

Song of The Reaper

Disclaimer: Disclaimer: Supernatural doesn't belong to me

Warnings: Violence, gore, major, multiple character deaths.

Prologue

If you head east on I-80 on a bright, sunny day, you would come across a car, out on the side of the road. Not just any plastic dump that passes for a car these days, but a muscle car. Despite months worth of dust on her, she was a beauty, just as gorgeous as she was the day she rolled off the plant at Janesville. But it wasn't any of that what made her special, it was her story, it was her family, how loved she was, how she used to be more of a home to a little family called the Winchesters than just any car. But there were no Winchesters, not anymore. It was just her, now, an illusion of what the world once had; a broken, twisted reminder of what it lost, how much it took from them and never gave back.

 _Originally a prompt with plot devices provided by Simran, thank you, girl! You can find her on tumblr_

 _The plot devices were gun, rope, classic car._


	2. Chapter 2

Song Of The Reaper

Disclaimer: I don't own Supernatural

Warnings: violence, gore, major and multiple character deaths.

Chapter 1

 ** _Tacoma, Washington_**

 ** _July 10, 1995_**

 ** _20 days before abduction_**

A sleek, black '67 Impala rolled into town around 1:18 hours in the night, or was it morning? The deep rumble of the engine was the only sound that echoed in the dark, sleeping streets. Dean was conked out in the front, passenger seat, exhausted after an almost non-stop 7 hour road trip. You'd think Sam would be tuckered out too, but the little guy was wide awake, drinking in the quiet town like a famished man in a desert oasis.

They pulled up in front of a dilapidated house by the far end of the town, the Pickets' place, abandoned since the early 80s.

"Wake up, Dean, we're here", John said as he shook a drooling, snoring Dean out of his slumber and back to awareness again.

Dean grunted awake, disoriented and dazed. He wordlessly got out of the car, grabbed the bags that were offered to him and stumbled into the ramshackle house.

Uncaring of the hygiene of their current place of residence, by the time the clock struck 2:00, all the three Winchesters were dead to the world.

 _ **July 12, 1995**_

 _ **18 days before abduction...**_

"This town blows, man, where are all the hot chics and the classic cars and fake ID accepting liquor stores? I mean, even food hates this town so much that pies are miserable, they practically weep diluted crap. And who names a town after a taco? Obviously a wacko, not that I have anything against tacos but seriously, dude, this town blows", rambled Dean.

"Dean, breathe," instructed Sam, "we're going to be here for what, a month at most? I think you can manage to be celibate for that long, you won't die of blue balls. And George said there is this dessert shop across the town that serves the best pies in the state."

"Seriously, Sam? You listen to George of the Jungle? You want to die of food poisoning? Have you seen his lunch? It's just green and grey stuff that smells like it came out of a public bath"

"Overdramatic much, Dean? It's just salad, you know, the stuff that doesn't give you a heart attack?" Sam said.

"Whatever, geek boy, hurry your scrawny ass up, we've got research to do and dad wants us back by 9 at most. If we scoot fast we could grab some pizza on our way" offered Dean.

"With pineapple slices and green olives?"

"Ugh, I don't know how you eat that crap but sure, whatever, little dude" he said, shuffling Sam's chestnut mop, much to his chagrin.

 ** _July 13, 1995_**

 ** _17 days before abduction..._**

"Dean, I'll be back late tonight, going to be heading out to the next town, interview a few witnesses. You both got your butterfly knives?" John asked as Sam and Dean munched on a breakfast of halfway decent toast. God knew John Winchester was hopeless with a toaster.

"Yes sir," came twin replies.

"Good, stay out of trouble. I want you guys to finish research on kelpies, today; origin, MO and how to kill them. I want you back no later than 9.00 pm. I will ask you what you have learnt tomorrow morning, got it? That means no slacking."

That was a new thing John Winchester had devised. While he worked a hunt, he set the boys up in a different town since he didn't want the intrusive nature of his job getting them in trouble. Monster pop quiz was his way of checking if the boys did their assigned research or not.

"Here, I packed turkey sandwiches, don't get used to it. I will pack you guys lunch until I got patience and time, other days you have got to go cafeteria," when he heard twin groans about his packed lunch, he smacked them across their heads.

"Quit it, dudes, not like I went to culinary school; or watch Martha Stewart like you do Dean. Now get going if you don't want to be late, "John smirked. Dean blushed a deep crimson as he ducked his head and hurried out the door to escape the cackles of his brother and father.

 ** _Same Day, roughly three hours later…_**

"This seat taken?" came a breathy voice from behind Dean.

Sam and Dean shared their lunch hours only on Mondays, which mostly left them to their own devices the other days of the week. While Sam usually took his lunch breaks with his only friend, George, Dean preferred sitting alone out in the school's backyard under the rarely remembered Gulmohar tree.

He stared up at the girl who seemed to have appeared out of nowhere.

"Depends, who's asking?" Dean said.

"Are you blind? You don't look blind to me. Not that blind people look any different than us but you must either be blind or I am invisible, okay, shutting up, now. I am Alicia," she said, cutting her rambling short and extending a hand out for Dean to shake.

"Wait, Alicia, the English class geek?" he asked, amusement twinkling in his moss green eyes.

"Haha, ten years and it never gets old," she huffed out, blushing red in embarrassment, plopping down on the grass next to Dean.

"What are you doing here? Don't you have other geeks to go discuss Shakespeare with?" Dean asked, closing his book on Tulpas and quietly slipping it into his bag.

"Firstly, not a big fan of Shakespeare, prefer Tolstoy over him anyday. Secondly, I don't have other 'geeks'. I don't know which rock you have been living under if it took you three days to notice. I am like the most awkward person in this town, I give off the 'go-away' waves."

"I believe it's called a Gulmohar tree," Dean said, smirking cockily.

"What?"

"You asked what rock I have been living under, it's actually a Gulmohar tree, if you haven't noticed. What? Don't like it? Never mind," said Dean awkwardly when she gave him a look that clearly said she was not amused.

For a few minutes, that awkward silence prevailed until Dean cleared his throat rather loudly, trying to find something to say.

"So, why did you come here?" he asked, curiosity piping his voice green.

"Because you give off the 'go-away' waves, too. I figured go-away waves multiplied by another set of go-away waves would make one heck of a go-away square team," said she, grinning goofily.

"I guess that makes us friend, then. Let's start over. Hi, I'm Dean Winchester." He said, giving a friendly grin.

"Nice to meet you, Dean, I'm Alicia Freeman. Now since we are friends, give me your m&ms, I saw you slip them in your bag."

 ** _That evening, The Public library…_**

"Hey, Sammy, do Kelpies eat their loot?" Dean asked, a mischievous glint to his eye which Sam failed to notice since he had his nose buried in a volume of "The Kelpie's Bridge" circa 1888.

"I don't know, Dean, there's a lot of variation in the lore. Some lore says they drag the souls of their victims to their realm underwater to serve as their slaves and some say that they devour their souls. No actual mention of cannibalistic behavior. Now, unless some dude made it out of a kelpie's stomach or you would like to volunteer to be kelpie brunch, then, we never know, Dean."

"Thanks, geek. You continue your research, I'm going out for a smoke. Educate me when I come back, Mr. Pineapple and Olive Pizza," Dean smirked.

He pointedly ignored the look Sam shot him and bounded out the library. Someone took their health class way too seriously.

He leaned against the pillar behind the library and pulled out his pack of Marlboros. He wasn't a chain smoker or anything, his dad would rip him a new one if he was, it was just when he started getting lost in his head or their life just got more shitty than usual, he needed a good smoke. Lung cancer be damned, smokers rarely got them anyway.

And right now, God was his head a mess.

Something black and shiny, a reflection caught his attention from across the street. A small smile graced his lips as he saw what it was. He put out his cigarette and sprinted across the street, dodging the oncoming cars and angry pedestrians.

 ** _Meanwhile, across the street…_**

Joseph Duncan, in all his time in Tacoma, had never felt excitement quite so sweet.

He was just on his way out the convenience store with his purchase of necessary 'tools' when he caught sight of a young boy, about the age of sixteen, checking his car out with a great level of excitement.

He had such a look of blind awe and admiration towards the car, that his green eyes glowed bright with it, like they were made out of glass.

As he saw Duncan approach him, he took a step back, he stayed, though.

"Cherry ride, dude," he breathed out, excitement making him wheezy.

Duncan smiled, oh the Sun was shining so bright, today.

"Thanks," he said, "You like classic cars?"

"Yeah, man, they're the best. Nothing like a classic. We've got one of our own, too," he beamed, proudly, making Duncan's inner voice squeal in anticipation.

"Oh yeah? You've got a '60 Cadillac, too? Don't tell me it is red."

"Oh hell no, man. We've got an Impala, '67. Black, she's a real beauty, just like yours!"

"'67 Impala? Damn, boy, that is sweet. You keep saying 'we', you family? You must be new in town, never seen you round these parts…" said he, dumping his bag into his car.

"Oh yeah, we moved into the Pickets' place at the end of town. It's my brother, father and I. I'm Dean, by the way."

Duncan took the offered hand with an unhealthy amount of delight and shook it.

"Joseph Duncan, pleasure to meet you, Dean. You can call me Duncan. Listen, since you seem so excited about classic cars, would you like me to teach you things? I can tell you all I know about them, and I know quite a lot…" he offered.

He saw Dean's face light up with excitement when he offered to tell him about classics, he really needed this!

"Oh, I don't know man. Not really free to fit anything else into my schedule…" Dean hesitated, the excitement gone and replaced by disappointment within seconds.

"You sure? I mean, I am free anytime; I work from home, so my schedule is pretty flexible. I am sure we can work something out," Duncan blurted out, a little too desperately.

When he saw a faintly guarded look of suspicion cross over Dean's face, he mentally smacked himself. He really had no tact.

"You know what, never mind. It was nice to meet you, Dean, see you 'round kid," he played, turning away and pretending to fidget with his keys.

"Wait" ah, bingo!

"I have to think about it, how about I get back to you late? I would really like to know things about cars, man," said Dean, longingly trailing his fingers over the Cadillac.

"Sure, man. You got a pen on you? I've got a telephone you can reach me on," he said.

As he saw Dean fish out a piece of paper and a pen, he recited his phone number.

"Sam must be going crazy in there. See you later, Duncan," Dean said, sprinting back towards the library with a slight bounce to his step.

Duncan smiled; he couldn't wait to get his plans made for this kid.

 ** _Back in the Library…_**

"What took you so long? You stop for a beer, too?" asked Sam as soon as Dean plopped back into his chair beside him.

"Haha, Sammy, loving the new you, all wittle sharp teeth itching to have a taste of the fruit called sarcasm," Dean grinned, stretching like a cat.

"What's gotten into you? You score a girl or something?" Sam asked curiously, how could a smoke get him so happy?

"You wouldn't believe it, Samantha, I just saw one sweet car. This black, 1960 Cadillac, dude. I could see our Baby being besties with her," he proclaimed proudly.

"Wow, Dean, you are actually cheery in 'Tacoma'. Must be one sweet car, would you two like a room?"

"Don't get cocky with me, geek, you don't know how to appreciate true beauty. Now tell me all I need to know about our dear, little, naked ladies," Dean said, messing up Sam's already shaggy hair.

"Jerk" Sam grumbled, shooting him an annoyed look.

"Bitch."


	3. Chapter 3

Song of the reaper

Same warnings as earlier

 _ **Tacoma, Washington**_

 _ **July 22nd, 1995**_

Routine was something the Winchesters rarely had the luxury to rely on, not that they particularly liked it, except Sam. If Sam wanted something bad enough to kill, it was a semblance of normal, a routine. So, wherever they went, if they managed to stick around longer than a week, he was over the moon.

"Sam, nine straight days from hell in the library, man, my brain flowed out my ears and dug itself a grave on day six"

"Dean, I am not the one forcing you to sit here. Look, if it were the regular, pop quiz research, I wouldn't mind covering for you, but dad said his hunt is weird, well, got weirder," said Sam.

"How weird? So some bodies started showing up in Tacoma too, maybe because wider victim pool, who doesn't enjoy a bigger buffet? This planet is practically an 'all-you-can-eat'!" Dean whined.

Sam wordlessly picked his books and newspaper articles up and moved, all that constant whining was giving him a headache.

He situated himself on the far end of the table and spread out.

Dean huffed, bored, then he too moved to where his brother sat.

With a loud smack to Sam's head, he sat on the chair beside him, "You're such a little bitch, Sam, you leave me alone to die in silence?! In a library of all places! So uncool! I would prefer a bar, even better, a strip club!" he grumbled.

Sam slammed the dusty book shut to shoot a nasty glare at his brother who was coughing at the onslaught of dust.

"Shh" hissed the librarian at their ruckus.

"There, now you've pissed off the Library Bat"

"Dean, leave me to read in peace! Just do whatever it is you do with Alicia," Sam relented.

"Hmm, Sammy, knew my little brother was the best! Be back by 7.30! We can grab lunch and spend a few more minutes in the library before having to head back. See 'ya later, squirt!"

Dean bounced out the library but not before ruffling Sam's chestnut mop, freedom, finnaly.

 _ **The Freemans' house**_

 _ **A few minutes later**_

"Alicia! Come on!" Dean bellowed, banging impatiently on the closed front door.

An always-stoned-looking-big-brother-of-said-friend opened the door instead of the pleasant face he expected.

"What, shithead?!" he screamed, his words slurring to something barely comprehensible.

"Didn't you hear me, Billy? I specifically called 'Alicia'. Now, unless you body-swapped with your sister overnight, which you clearly didn't, seeing your ugly mug, or call yourself Alicia, I don't get why I am getting special glimpses of your face," Dean said, smirking.

Billy scowled, or what he thought was a scowl but was actually a pathetic excuse of one, before strutting back to his room.

"What happened, Billy? Did I hurt your little feelings? Aw, go smoke some more pot, little man, it really does make you shoot sunshine out of your ass!"

Billy flipped him the bird before slamming the door on his laughing face.

"Hey! What's going on?"

"Oh erm, nothing, just having a friendly conversation with my man Billy," Dean said, smiling sheepishly.

Alicia smacked him hard on his hand, "jerk."

He mock gasped, "Language, woman! Is that how you treat a gentleman? Jeez, lady!"

"Come on, dram queen, let's continue the soap on the way," she said, pulling him out the door.

 _ **On the other end of town**_

 _ **1830 hours**_

"So, Dean, you never said, what brought you to Nowhereville-Tacoma?" Duncan asked.

Dean rolled out from under the car, wiping his greasy hands on the rag he held out.

"Oh, you know, dad's work," he smoothly said, chugging on the beer Duncan provided him with.

He was far from the legal age for drinking but this wasn't exactly the first beer he'd had. His dad's friend Fred Jones had given him his first before he'd even hit double digits. And his dad indulged him on the rare occasions of a hard job done well.

"Yeah? What kind of job?"

"Travelling salesman," he replied, running his hands over the car's newly waxed exterior. He smiled proudly at it, he'd done a good job.

"What kind of job does a salesman have in a town like ours?"

Dean squirmed uncomfortably, if subtlety was Duncan's aim, he was failing miserably.

"Uh, every town has things it needs, you know, cleaning agents, those fancy parts for ACs, the whole nine, it's boring."

He dared not say mechanics, not with another car nut doing the inquiry.

Duncan backed off, he didn't want to come off as a creep, even though that is what he really was.

"Come on, let's work on her engine. She sure can use some tuning up" he said, smiling genuinely. Cars were amazing.

Dean smiled wide, maybe Tacoma didn't suck, after all.

 _ **Back at the home-base**_

 _ **That night**_

"So, boys, what did you find out? Any connection between the vics?" John asked, slurping at the soup they'd fetched him from the diner.

Dean sheepishly looked away from Sam's scowl. He'd gotten delayed, arriving just in time to pick Sam up before he got kicked to the curb for staying past closing.

"No, dad, just like the vics in the other town, no connection. Different age groups, occupation, no family history of weird or any known pissed person," Sam replied.

"Hmm, keep looking. Found another body today, at least a month old. Coroner said all signs point to haemorrhage, again."

"You think it could be witches?" Dean supplied.

They considered the suggestion for a moment.

"No signs of Hex bags, though," Sam said.

"Yeah, Sam, but heavy-duty witchcraft doesn't need hex-bags. The old coots use verbal spells, only the amateurs and beginners need the bags. Haemorrhage and spewing bodily fluids all over unsanitarily, that's their MO," said Dean.

"You've got a point," John said, "Well, boys, looks like you just found yourself tomorrow's topic of research."

"Ugh, perfect. Freaking witches!" Dean shivered at the mere thought, his inner germophobe showing.

"All right now, off to bed, 5 o'clock sharp tomorrow I want you sparring with me, then school."

"Dad," Sam groaned, " do we have to? We have school!"

He shuddered, his muscles hurt just thinking about sparring with his dad at the ass-crack of dawn.

"Hey, stop whining, dude. You know getting out of training is not an option, Sam, not if you want to survive this life," John grit out.

Sam mumbled unintelligibly.

"What? Speak up, Sam."

"I said yes, sir!"

"Good, I want that attitude gone before training tomorrow. Night, boys," he said before striding into his own room.

"Come on, squirt, we'll get ice cream, tomorrow," Dean suggested.

"Mint chocolate?"

"Ugh, oh thou God that exists not, take my precious life away from this burning pot of disgust to the holy heavens."

"Shut up, jerk!"

"Bitch."

 **TBC**

 _*I haven't forgotten this exists!* Let me know if you find errors!_


End file.
